


The Big 3-0

by Lynx22281



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s08e21 The Great Escapist, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-08
Updated: 2013-05-08
Packaged: 2017-12-10 19:42:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/789433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lynx22281/pseuds/Lynx22281
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“30’s a pretty big deal, little brother.”  Dean said as he clapped a hand on his shoulder with a grin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Big 3-0

Dean jerked awake. He pushed himself up to sit on the edge of the bed, rubbing his face roughly to help clear the sleep fog from mind. He glanced around his room. The lamp on the nightstand was still on and he was still dressed and wearing his boots. There were muddy smudges on top of the comforter. He hadn’t slept fully clothed since his and Sam’s first night in the bunker. With a sigh he brushed at the dirt marring his bed. 

Grumbling to himself about the mess, he stood and walked across the hall to check on Sam. His brother was sprawled out like a starfish on his back, mouth partially open and snoring softly. He vaguely remembered commanding Sam to go to bed as soon as they got home and that the order was met with no resistance whatsoever. At least Sam had taken the time to change into his pajamas and crawl under the covers before falling asleep. 

Dean stepped back across the hall to the door next to his room. Castiel was propped up against all their extra pillows with his eyes closed, though Dean doubted the angel was actually asleep. His hands were resting next to his hips on top of the covers, thumbs curled into his palms. A wide swath of gauze was taped securely to his exposed abdomen. Last night, Dean had managed to get Castiel out of his trenchcoat, suit coat, tie, and shirt so he could access the angel’s wounds. Castiel had explained that Crowley had shot him with a bullet made from an Angel Blade and he had dug it out of his flesh himself. His bleeding had slowed down during the car ride back to the bunker, but Castiel’s Grace was sluggish and the wounds to his stomach and face were slow to close. Dean had had to give the angel a few stitches to hold the gunshot wound together until it healed completely. 

His brother was still sick and his angel was injured, but at least he had both of them under one roof where he could keep a close eye on them. Kevin was with Metatron and protected for the time being. The last trial had been translated, though they hadn’t exactly had time to delve into what exactly had to be done to cure a demon. For the time being they could take the breather they so desperately needed.

His watch beeped once, pulling Dean from his thoughts. He glanced down at his wrist and saw that it was 5am on May 2nd. Scratching at the back of his head, he headed towards the main living area of the bunker deciding to start his day with coffee and emails before continuing to rummage through the storage areas. He wondered if he’d ever get through every box, crate, cabinet, and shelf of artifacts, mementos, and general stuff the Men of Letters horded in the bunker. Leaning against the kitchen counter as he waited for the coffee pot to fill up, Dean looked back down at his watch, furrowing a brow. A good ten seconds passed before his brain finally remembered the importance of the day – Sam’s birthday. Even more importantly, it was Sam’s 30th birthday. 

Sam didn’t particularly like to celebrate his birthday anymore. Too many bad things had happened to make the date worth enjoying. But, Dean still tried to do something special for his brother, though he toned down the more embarrassing parts of celebrating the day over the last few years (like letting the waitress at Biggerson’s know it was Sam’s big day and having the entire wait staff sing their horribly kitschy, horribly off-key corporate birthday song). It was a crime against the Big Bro Code, Dean realized, to completely forget about your little brother’s birthday altogether. 

The coffee pot sputtered as the last of the water filtered through the coffee grounds. Dean filled a travel mug and scribbled a note on the dry erase board affixed to the fridge door in case Sam or Castiel woke up before he returned. Grabbing his jacket from the back of a library chair, he headed up to the Impala parked outside on the service road.

***

Several hours later, Sam stumbled out of bed and into the shower. Sleep had helped calm the buzzing under his skin somewhat, but he still felt like his body was vibrating like a guitar string. After making himself as presentable as possible and continuing to ignore the pallor of his face, the younger Winchester headed for the library to see what the day’s plans were. Dean and the Castiel, who looked very strange in a borrowed pair of sweatpants and loose black t-shirt, were on the couch catching up on episodes of _Dr. Sexy, MD_ on Netflix. 

It wasn’t until Dean looked up at Sam and quickly cut his eyes over to the library’s reading table that Sam noticed the cake sitting in an open pink Carvel box. Ice cream cake had always been his favorite birthday cake when he was little, though he had only ever had it at other kids’ birthday parties. Ice cream cake was expensive and didn’t keep so well in a hotel fridge. He’d always thought himself lucky if he got a slice of the cake-of-the-day from a diner for his birthday. Two candles, a 3 and a 0, were lit in the middle of the cake.

Dean stood from the couch and carefully helped Castiel up to his feet. The two of them came around to stand on either side of Sam, who despite his dislike of his birthday couldn’t help but smile.

“30’s a pretty big deal, little brother.” Dean said as he clapped a hand on his shoulder with a grin.

Sam nodded in agreement. “Never thought either of us would see it, yet somehow we both made it.”

“Almost didn’t,” Dean said soberly.

“But you did,” Castiel added in a voice that was more gravelly than usual.

Dean pulled three beers from the mini-fridge and passed two to Sam and Castiel. He twisted the cap off his own bottle and held it up. Looking up, he smiled at his brother, his eyes crinkling at their corners. “Here’s to 30 more.”

Sam and Castiel clinked their bottles against Dean’s before Sam leaned down to blow out the candles. He made the same wish he made every year – _make this year better than the last_.


End file.
